


sing back to you

by vulpesvortex



Series: the house that heaven built (the Dadwood AU) [12]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Kidfic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:28:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9425861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulpesvortex/pseuds/vulpesvortex
Summary: “Are you sure this is where you wanna be?” Geoff asked, but he could tell already it was a moot point, because Lindsay’s face shifted into the hesitant little frown that meant she was about to ask if she was bothering him or in the way, which meant he was going to drop the subject like it was on fire.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another little glimpse at Geoff's past as a teen punk rocker.
> 
> UPDATE: You can now score [a cool EIGHT MISTAKES band tee](https://society6.com/berendoes) at my Society6!

“Lindsay, are you sure you wouldn’t rather spend your Saturday with your friends than hang out here with all this stuffy old man music?” Geoff asked sometimes, when Lindsay was parked on the store floor with a stack of CDs.  
  
Lindsay lifted the headphones off her ears, looking up questioningly. “Huh?”  
  
“Are you sure this is where you wanna be?” Geoff rephrased, but he could tell already it was a moot point, because Lindsay’s face shifted into the hesitant little frown that meant she was about to ask if she was bothering him or in the way, which meant he was going to drop the subject like it was on fire.  
  
She was never in the way, and frankly as far as he was concerned she could spend all her afternoons camped out in his store if she didn’t have school or hockey practice, but he worried, sometimes. But it seemed that Lindsay really just liked to hang out with the store’s backlog of records and CDs on her day off.    
  
“You know you can stay here any time you like! But don’t you want to hang out with your friends?”  
  
“Why? I see them during the week,” Lindsay said distractedly, rooting through the stack of CDs at her feet. She was tucked away in a corner, set up on a beanbag, so Geoff didn’t mind her making a bit of a mess on the floor. And anyway, barely anyone was buying CDs anymore, let alone from his music equipment store rather than the record store down the block. She pulled one out from the pile and held it up for him to see. “What’s this?”  
  
Geoff stepped closer, squinting at it. There was a boyish man with bleached blond hair and make up on the cover, dressed in shorts and block-heeled shoes and holding a violin. “Patrick Wolf,” Geoff read off the CD. He honestly didn’t remember where most of the stock had come from, or who’d ordered it. He'd had a few interns with eclectic tastes.  
  
Lindsay flipped the CD over thoughtfully, bobbing her head to music playing through the headphones still covering one of her ears. “It’s a funny kind of music. Wanna hear?”  
  
“Sure.” Geoff let himself drop down to the bean bag next to her. The only customer in the store was a young woman with her shoulders bunched up around her ears who he knew from experience would bolt if he asked her if she needed help finding anything.  
  
Lindsay popped the headphones onto his ears and immediately Geoff’s hearing was assaulted by electronic beeps and sirens and static, but also, strangely, violins, trumpets, and what sounded like an accordion, all underlying the man’s clear, deep voice.  
  
“Huh,” he said, pushing one ear free of the headphones. “’S not what I expected.”  
  
Lindsay gave him an assessing look. “Did you ever dress like that? When you were in a band, I mean.”  
  
“I know you’ve seen the picture in the back, don’t try to kid me, Haywood.”  Geoff shoved her playfully with his shoulder.  
  
“Yeah, but that’s just one show. I don’t know what you did other times. Didn’t you try to like, explore your look? Were you out by then?”  
  
“I don’t know if you’d call it out but it wasn’t exactly, like, a secret. Not to anyone who knew where to look.” Geoff smiled to himself, remembering. “We had this one song that was just me yelling bits of _Howl_ over three electric guitars and cymbals.”  
  
“Howl?”  
  
“It’s a poem that you definitely should not read for like, another three years if you don’t want your dad to have my balls.” He snorted. “’ _O victory forget your underwear we’re free’._ ”  
  
Lindsay giggled. “That’s silly.”  
  
“’ _I’m with you in Rockland; where we hug and kiss the United States under our bed sheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep.’”_  
  
Lindsay scrunched her nose. “Is it a sex poem?”  
  
“There’s a bit of sex, yeah. And some bad words, and a lot of other shit people got angry about in the 1980s, which is, of course, why we were singing it, and why you should wait a little to read it. But you asked about dressing up. I don’t think I ever really did any of that, though there were actually a lot of famous guys dressing up right about then. Peter Gabriel wore a dress. There was some eyeliner at one point for me I think, but it was more Iggy Pop than David Bowie, you know?”  
  
“Hmm.” Lindsay cocked her head, considering Geoff for a moment. She grinned suddenly. “Too bad. That would’ve made excellent blackmail pictures.”  
  
“I think you’ve got enough on me already,” Geoff chuckled.

“You cried at _Titanic_!”

“Shhh!” Geoff shushed, stage whispering, “My reputation!”  
  
Lindsay hid her face behind her hands, dissolving into giggles.  
  
The shy customer was hovering at the till, clutching a number of brightly colored guitar picks and a secondhand extension cord. Geoff got up, putting a hand on Lindsay’s shoulder. “Hang on, I gotta go help this lady.”  
  
The picks clattered onto the counter and the girl’s hands fidgeted a little after she’d put them down. Geoff quietly rang up her purchases, smiling encouragingly at her. “That’ll be $10.55. You find everything you were looking for?”  
  
“Yeah! Yes, thank you,” she blurted a little too loudly, hands jumping to fumble with one end of the extension cord. She smiled at him, though, and after a moment’s hesitation asked, “You were in a band?”  
  
“Oh yeah, years ago. Ancient history. Prehistoric, pretty much. ”  
  
She looked at him with an assessing challenge in her eyes. “You guys any good?”  
  
Geoff chuckled. “Oh god, no. Just, awful, you know?”  
  
The girl giggled, casting a look at Lindsay. “Well, at least you passed on the enthusiasm.”  
  
“Just by luck,” Geoff said, fondly watching Lindsay spin a record between her fingers. It was _Ziggy Stardust_ , one of her favorites, and one of the only ones she preferred to use the record player for rather than the stereo.  
  
“I’m in a band,” the girl said, a little awkwardly. She passed him a card, black with silver lettering, not quite metal, not quite punk. There was a little rainbow heart in the corner.  “We’re playing a set next Saturday, at The Bean, you know, the coffee shop? You guys could come, if you want. I think your daughter might like it.”  
  
Geoff felt himself smile, surprised at the unexpected sales pitch. Sometimes really all it took was a small ice breaker and a common interest, and even the shy ones opened up like a flower. He looked at the soundcloud link on the card. “Thanks, we’ll look you up.”  
  
The girl grabbed the bag with the picks and cord off the counter. “Thank you. Bye!”  
  
He waved at her as she went out the door.  “Have a nice day!”  
  
“So, you find anything else?” Geoff said when he’d plopped back next to Lindsay.  
  
She grinned and held up a white CD case, briefly flashing him the front – same guy, different hair - before pointing to something on the back. “This one’s about his boyfriend.” She pointed to another track. “And this one’s about marriage equality, I think.”    
  
“Huh.” Geoff took the CD and picked up the other one from where it’d been set aside on the floor. He held them up on either side of his face, smirking at Lindsay. “Alright, so: redheads or blonds? I’m thinking redheads, ‘cause Michael comes around the house _a lot_ and it ain't all for Gav-“  
  
“Geoff!” Lindsay indignantly slapped the CDs out of his hands, and they both ended up laughing on the floor when one of the cases beaned Geoff in the forehead.  
  
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!”  
  
“Maimed! In the line of duty!”

“God! You’re so dramatic!” Lindsay said, and pushed him over.  
  
Really, there wasn’t anywhere Geoff would rather spend his Saturday afternoon either.  
 

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick Wolf's music isn't punk (it's sort of, electro-folk?) but I love him, and y'all should give his stuff a listen.


End file.
